


fair skies, kind roads

by bloominggroves



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Caduceus is Orpheus, Caleb does what he thinks is best for everyone, Caleb is Eurydice, F/F, F/M, Hadestown AU, M/M, Percy is Hades and Vex is Persephone, everyone else is a surprise :), everyone else shows up later, i intended to write the whole thing and then post it but i wanted validation so here we are, i promise i'll try not to abandon this one, mostly an excuse to listen to hadestown a bunch of times, specifically Nott and Caduceus, unfortunately the rest of the gang have Opinions on that, will be updating sporadically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-07 19:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominggroves/pseuds/bloominggroves
Summary: Caleb has always run away, and Caduceus has been alone for a very long time.They fall in love in the summertime, and for a while, it's beautiful.And then winter comes, and with it, a train.Or: Caduceus and Nott break into the Underworld with a crowbar and the power of motivational speaking to rescue Caleb from his own bad decisions, and make some new friends along the way.(on hiatus because I got stuck and also exams are killing me)





	1. act i, part i

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Promises,' from Hadestown.

In a time where spring forgets to come, when rain never falls and rivers freeze so deep that the word 'thaw' is only a memory, there is a railroad line.

It's rusty, barely used, overgrown by ivy and half-buried by dirt, and it leads around hill and through forest until it vanishes below the earth. Only one train runs on it, and only twice a year: a shining silver thing that seems out of place on the dilapidated old rails, all sleek and elegant, windows tinted black and smelling of soot and factory smoke. The conductor, another silver-and-chrome machine, sells tickets, but only a handful each time the train comes. They're squares of black metal, engraved with a complicated overly-long name, because the king of the Underworld never does anything by halves. 

The story starts like this: once upon a time, a train comes up from below the ground. It stops at a platform beside a forest, just long enough for the doors to slide open with a hiss of hydraulic steam, and for two people and their traveling companion to step out. 

The first passenger is a woman, her raven-dark hair tied into an elaborate braid around her head. The clothes she wears are expensive, furs, silks and fine linens, though she's spent the entirety of the train ride removing jewelry and packing it away. She has eyes the color of cold iron, a beautiful smile that hasn't seen much use in the last month or so, as she waited for the train to take her above the ground. Pointed ears, but don't ask her about those. They're a memory of magic, a remnant of something that still lingers in the world despite the ever-present hum of machinery that threatens to drown it out. (She hates them, wishes she bore more of a resemblance to her mother, who didn't have so much as the slightest bit of magic in her body.) There are rumors about her: that she is a witch, or a powerful sorceress, who ensnared the king of the Underworld with her spells, enchanted him to love no other but herself. These rumors are, of course, utter nonsense. She didn't need magic to enchant him, thank you very much— she did that all on her own, and did a far better job of it than a spell ever could. 

A single step behind her is a man, who looks the same as her in almost every regard. He is dressed all in black, the only colour on his person a string of painted wooden beads woven into his hair. There are rumors about him, too. They say that he is a ghost, a revenant, or a bird who gave up his feathers when he fell in love with a human. They say he would follow the woman to the ends of the earth, and even further— well, that last one, at least, is true. 

And behind them, grumbling at the indignity of having to carry a pile of bags and boxes, is something that's either a bear or a dog who's very good at pretending to be one. There are no rumors about him, because the last time someone started to whisper about his being an enchanted human man, everyone decided to collectively ignore them until they stopped talking. Some stories are just too unbelievable to be true. 

A woman, her brother, and a bear step off the train and watch it move away into the distance. The woman takes her brother by the hand and runs off the platform, laughing, smiling, feeling the wind on her skin for the first time in six months, until her brother joins in too. 

* * *

Or, maybe, the story starts like this: Caleb has always run away, since he was a young and foolish man with fire in his fingers and sorrow in his heart. He never stays in one place for long, moving with the weather, always a step ahead of every storm. He’s always alone, always hungry, never giving himself the luxury of thinking too far ahead, afraid of what his mind might do next.

And Caduceus has been alone for a long time, walking in forests and speaking to the strange things that grow there. His family left long ago, but he stayed, waiting for something he couldn’t quite describe. He hears more of the music of water and birdsong than he does human voices, but it doesn’t matter— the wilds are good company, and he never wants for much. 

They fall in love in the summertime, when the sun shines down on fields of gold and flowers— a summer that lasts half as long as it should, after a springtime that’s even shorter. (And, really, it’s more complicated than just _falling._ It’s the conclusion of a years-long dance that ends with them tripping over their own feet and ending up in each others’ arms, with barely a moment to breathe before the music starts again.) 

Their home is beside a river, a cottage barely big enough for the two of them. Caduceus plants a garden, fills the air with the smell of nectar and honey, until bees and butterflies surround them. Caleb stacks piles of books in every space that can be spared, myths and fairytales, histories and dusty scholar’s texts. He carefully buries the dark part of his mind that whispers _“You do not deserve this,”_ under love and warmth and sunlight. 

Two other people live nearby: Veth Brenatto, a young halfling woman who answers only to the name of Nott for reasons she won’t explain, and her son, Luc. Her husband went down to the Underworld to find work, she says— he sends her money, and letters, and someday she’s going to march right down there and get him to come home, no matter how good the wage is. She says all this with a smile and a nervous laugh, but the shuffle of her feet and the slight shake in her voice tells Caduceus that it hurts her more than she lets on. Her son is growing up without a father, and she hasn’t seen her husband since winter last year. That’d hurt anybody, Caduceus thinks, but she’s strong, and she’s making plans to fix it, which is all anyone can really do.

(Caduceus leaves her alone with Caleb for ten minutes, and comes back to find his lover wrapped in a blanket with a bowl of soup in front of him, being talked at in such an enthusiastic manner that he has simply given up and accepted her affection. He has no idea where she got either of those things from, nor why she thought they were necessary given that it’s the height of summer at the time, but it’s nice to see them getting along anyhow.) 

* * *

Summer ends, and the wind grows colder. Storm clouds gather on the horizon, a sky darker than anything Caduceus has seen for years. Caleb starts to talk more and more about food, about firewood, the way it looks like this winter's going to be a bad one. Caduceus does his best to reassure him— _we've made it through worse than this before, and neither of us are alone anymore,_ he says. _Breathe, sunflower. It'll all turn out okay._

But even Caduceus can't quite shake the lingering worry that seems ever-present in their home. It lurks in the back of their minds, gnaws at their empty stomachs, a dark, creeping thing that only grows as the days get shorter. 

"The train will be coming any day now," Caleb remarks absently as they sort through their stores for what feels like the hundredth time. Something about the way he says that rattles Caduceus a little. Though he can't quite place it, he knows something is wrong— but they have enough to worry about already, so he says nothing. 

* * *

One morning Caduceus wakes to find Caleb's side of the bed empty, and the house silent. He finds the note on their kitchen table a few minutes later, and he half-knows what it’s going to say before he reads it. 

_I cannot stay and see you starve, and know that if I was not there you would be well and healthy through the winter that is to come. I am leaving this letter because I do not know when you will return, and the train will be here soon. Please do not follow me. Your freedom is worth far more than mine._

~~_I lo_ ~~

~~_I will miss_ ~~

_I am sorry._

He reads it again, and again, slowly, as though if he does it enough it’ll say something different. Maybe he’s hoping for a miracle, or that he’ll wake up and find it all a dream. He hopes for a knock on the door, or the sound of a train returning. 

* * *

He doesn’t get a miracle. 

* * *

"Well, we're not going to just sit here and let him be gone. That's— that's not going to fucking happen, okay? Shit. There has to be _something._ It can't end like this."

Caduceus almost wants to laugh. He definitely wants to cry, but neither of those things happen. He can't seem to make any words leave his mouth, and every movement he makes feels clumsy, unrealised, as though his body isn't a part of him anymore. 

He scans the room for something to look at that isn't Nott, so he won't have to see how she's barely holding back tears, how she's keeping her face so carefully still and her hands trapped under her legs so they don't shake. 

His eyes land on Caleb's book of fairytales, and he _remembers._

* * *

_"Would you prefer this one to have a happy ending or a tragic one?"_

_"Hmm. Sad stories don't really fit with sunshine and lavender bushes, do they?"_

_"I suppose not. I will stop before the last page, then." Caleb clears his throat and turns the page, taking a moment to read ahead before he starts._

_"Once upon a time, there was a railroad line that led below the earth, and the souls of the dead rode the train to the place where they would rest. And in a forest near the tracks, two people fell in love. They were to marry, promising each other fair skies and kind roads, and that the trees would fill their plates and cups. But the world was not so kind as that, and on the eve of their wedding one was struck by tragedy, and was lost from this world."_

_"I thought you were going to give this a happy ending."_

_"Hush,_ liebling, _I have barely started. The other, seeing his love dead at his feet, did the only thing he could. He began to sing, even as he wept, and because his voice was as if the stars themselves echoed from his throat, a train came from beneath the earth and opened its doors to him."_

* * *

"There's a story in that book," Caduceus says, slowly, testing the words out as he says them. His throat is hoarse, his voice quiet, and he realises that he hasn't spoken in nearly a week. 

"What?" Nott says. 

"A story. Caleb told it to me. Someone dies, and the one who loves them the most finds their way to the world of the dead to save them."

"How does it end?" 

"I don't know. We never got to the last page. The point is— the point is that the man in the book found his way there, found his way into the halls of the King of the Underworld and he got what he was after, or at least it seemed that way. And if he could do it— well, a lot of these stories have some basis in the truth. All the good ones do. And doesn’t everyone call that place down there the Underworld?"

"You think we could do it?" Nott says. She lets her fists relax enough to tap on the dusty wooden floor, traces patterns there without really seeing them.

"Do you have a better plan?" 

* * *

There's an old railroad line north of the forest, boarded up and plastered with signs that say 'keep out', 'trespassers will be condemned,' and 'beware of dogs.’ It shut down when the newer line opened, years ago, and fairly sure no train is going to run them over once they get down there. The stars don't reflect in the rusty metal, and neither does the light from the only functional security camera once Nott throws a bucket of water over it. By this time, it's already halfway through the autumn— it took them a while to find this place, a lot of sleepless nights searching through every book any of them could get their hands on until they found something that led them here. 

Nott brings a crowbar, two torches, the warmest blankets she can find. Caduceus brings food and water, all that he can carry, the things they'd stockpiled for the winter— if they succeed, he'll find another way to keep him and Caleb fed. If not, it won't matter either way. 

When the first board cracks and crashes to the ground, Nott says "Are we only looking for him, or can we… y'know, poke around a bit? Only, since we'll be down there anyway, I'd— I'd like to find my husband, bring him back with us. He's been down there too long already."

"Be my guest," Caduceus says. "You don't have to come with, you know. You could stay. Look after your son, stay safe up here."

"You know that isn't true," Nott says. "Come on, help me get this board unstuck. You sure this is the right place? It'd be pretty stupid if we went down the wrong train line and ended up in Marquet or something." 

"I'm sure," Caduceus says. "There's no other way to go."


	2. act i, part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of blood and broken bones. More details in the end notes, but skip from _"Caduceus is sitting under his favourite willow tree"_ to _"... but surely nobody would be so bloody stupid as that?"_ to avoid it.

"What the hell?" Nott says as she shines her flashlight into the tunnel. "There're more boards here, but they're all smashed to shit. Like someone broke through and then just... stuck all the ones they didn’t break back over the tunnel. Not with a crowbar or anything, even, it looks like they just kicked them in. Who could  _ do  _ that?"

"We might find out pretty soon," Caduceus says. Nott steps forward, turns her own flashlight on and sweeps the tunnel for any sign of movement. "Gross. Smells like something died in here."

"A lot of things died in here," Caduceus says. "Or they were already dead, and they just got left behind somehow."

"What, like some people fell off the train or something?"

"Or jumped. Got pushed off. Must be pretty crowded on that thing. A lot of people are hungry these days."

"Why don't they use this track anymore, then?" Nott wonders. "What's the point of building a new one that goes to the exact same place?" 

"Too many people breaking in, I'd guess," Caduceus says. "Makes you wonder why they didn't do a better job of boarding it up."

They walk in the dark like that for a while— it could be days, or it could just be hours, but the walls all look so similar that it's impossible to tell.

There's no sound down here, not even water running down the walls or the scratch of insects building nests among the rusty iron of the tracks. Just their footsteps, gravel kicked aside and pebbles clattering away, Nott letting out a muffled flurry of swearing every time she gets something stuck in her shoe. They may well be the first to walk this path in years, since the line was built and the first hungry folk made their way below. It's a strange thought, not something to be dwelt on. Something to consider later, much later, when they're home and everything is back to the way it’s supposed to be.

—  __

Maybe the wood is damp, or the matches are faulty, or maybe it’s just that something about this place doesn’t lend itself to light and warmth— whatever it is, when they finally stop to rest, the fire won’t light. 

There's not much magic left in the world, but a little of it still lingers. Some folk have horns, or tusks, while others can sing so beautifully that rocks and rivers weep. Nott is a halfling, Caduceus and the rest of his family firbolgs, and Caleb can conjure fire with nothing but a few clever words and a wave of his hands. 

_ This would be so much easier if he were here,  _ they both think, and say nothing. 

Eventually, after a great deal of swearing and a worrying number of broken matches, Nott manages to get the fire to light. It does nothing for the cold, and very little for the dark that presses in around them, but it’s some small comfort to have. 

Caduceus takes first watch, though privately he thinks that he wouldn't be able to sleep down here anyhow. It's too cold, too far from the sun, and he can't imagine anything growing in this place. He sits as close to the fire as he can manage, and tries to drive the cold out of his bones. 

—

_ Caduceus is sitting under his favourite willow tree— the one beside a river, whose branches hang down so low that they form a perfect curtain between him and the rest of the world— and he’s trying very hard to meditate, even though there’s a rock digging into his leg and a beetle just crawled up his sleeve.  _

_ (Well, he doesn’t mind the beetle, really. It’s nice to have company now and again.)  _

_ For some reason, though, he just can’t clear his mind enough to meditate. There’s a thought scratching at the back of his head, one he can’t quite place enough to shake it, and it’s proving a highly inconvenient distraction.  _

_ The willow leaves rustle and part, and a man steps through the curtain. He’s red-haired, grim-faced, outlined by sunlight and with an unusual number of leaves stuck to his hair. Not someone Caduceus has seen before— wait. That isn’t right. This is  _ Caleb _ , though there’s no hint of recognition in his eyes. No, this has already happened. It’s been almost a year since this day— this was how they  _ met. 

Oh,  _ Caduceus thinks. _ That was the thought. This is just a dream. 

_ Caleb looks at him, and the grim, determined set to his face lessens slightly.  _

_ “Are you Caduceus Clay?” He asks. Caduceus nods, noticing just as he had the first time the way Caleb relaxes a little more at the affirmation.  _

_ “That I am. Can I help you?”  _

_ “My name is Caleb Widogast. I am in need of, ah, of some healing. I was told you were the one to ask?  _

_ He moves his arm aside, and suddenly there’s blood on his chest that wasn’t there a second ago, too much blood to be coming out of one person— and this isn’t  _ right _ , it had been a broken wrist that wanted setting, not this, this shouldn’t be happening at all— and Caleb starts to cough, falls to his knees, clawing at the ground. Caduceus can’t  _ move _ , can only sit there as Caleb struggles for breath, looks up at him with panicked eyes, coughing up still more blood.  _

_ “Help me,” he gasps, reaches one hand toward Caduceus—  _

—

"... but surely nobody would be so bloody stupid as that?" 

"They have. I can see the firelight from here."

Then no more words, but a scuffle of footsteps and the flicker of a torch beam coming around the corner,  _ fast,  _ as though whoever it is has suddenly broken into a run. Caduceus snaps awake, on his feet in a second, shaking Nott awake and trying to gather his thoughts back together after an hour of letting them drift. Nott grabs her crowbar and tosses Caduceus his flashlight with a whispered “Trust me, it’s heavy enough to kill someone.” 

That’s all the time they get before whoever-it-is rounds the corner and sprints straight at them, a formless blur in the dark, visible only by their eerily glowing red eyes. Caduceus braces himself and raises the flashlight higher, but the impact never comes. The figure ducks under his arm and vaults straight over Nott. She grabs at his arm and misses, and the figure heads straight for the fire. It’s burned down low, but the faint light illuminates the person just a little— a flash of horns, sharp teeth, a cloak that flares out behind them as they land on the other side of the fire pit. They land on the other side of the fire and completely ignore Nott and Caduceus, choosing instead to start kicking the dwindling embers into oblivion. What’s left of the fire is gone in seconds, and the person looks up at Nott and Caduceus, blinks once, twice, and throws the hood of their cloak off. 

“Are you  _ insane?”  _ they— he? — says, face still hidden by shadows. “What part of ‘danger, be quiet and stealthy’ do you not  _ get?  _ There are dogs, guards—” 

Nott swings her flashlight beam up into his eyes, effectively cutting him off without saying a single word. He hisses at her, baring sharp fangs and an unexpectedly pointed tongue, which would have been more intimidating if she hadn’t hissed right back at him with disproportionate ferocity for a halfling of her size. This is about when Caduceus realises he’s  _ not _ actually still dreaming, and figures he’d better do something before this situation gets any worse. 

“Easy there, friend,” he says, in his best consoling-a-stricken-family-member voice. “Nott, would you mind putting that down? I don’t think it’s doing us any favours.” She does, reluctantly, giving the stranger a suspicious glare, but she doesn’t turn the beam off for a second.

“Now, would you mind telling us a little more about what’s going on here? We meant no harm by the campfire, only a little light."

The stranger sighs, a look of irritation crossing his face. The flashlight beam showed intricately-tattooed purple skin, ram-like horns, and at least three piercings that Caduceus can count from here, but now that he’s back in darkness all anyone can see is his eyes. 

“Yasha, love? Don’t think they’re going to start shooting any time soon, but I could use some backup here,” he calls back down the tunnel. The sound echoes for a moment before the sound of footsteps starts up again, and a second figure comes into view—a tall, muscular woman with wild hair and a sword strapped to her back that looks to be  _ very _ real. She goes to stand behind the first stranger, silent and more than a little ominous in the darkness, which seems to provide him with enough encouragement to begin talking again. 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he says. He gives a sweeping bow, there, throwing one arm behind his back as though he’s on some invisible stage. “Molly to my friends, which I suppose we are now, given that we’re all down here together. This is Yasha— she’s wonderful, very good at breaking things. You’re welcome for the whole ‘not being arrested or killed by guard dogs’ thing, by the way.” 

“What’re you doing down here?” Nott says, interrupting the rest of his speech. Her suspicion is still obvious, as is her crowbar, which she’s very pointedly still holding. 

Yasha speaks up for the first time, saying “We’d be further down, maybe even in the actual town by now, but the guard on the gate is—” 

“Unpleasant, aggravating, and completely unwilling to let us through,” Molly finishes. “Wouldn’t even take the bribe I offered her.” 

“You offered her drugs, Molly,” Yasha reminds him, and gets a shrug in response. 

Caduceus thinks for a moment, considers his words carefully before speaking. 

“I think I can help with that problem,” he says. “I’ve had plenty of practice with stubborn patients, and that’s far harder to handle than a guard who won’t give passage. Never had to bribe someone to get the job done, but you two seem capable of handling that. Are you willing to let us travel with you? It’d be far easier than trying to stay away from each other in this place, after all.” 

Nott nods in agreement, and finally decides, to everyone’s great relief, to let go of the crowbar. Yasha whispers something to Molly, which Caduceus only catches a few fragments of.  _ “...seem okay,”  _ and then  _ “...just knock them out if they try anything,”  _ after which Molly looks a little more relaxed, which is an improvement over the general air of gloom and irritation that hung over him a moment ago. 

“Just don’t light any more fires,” Yasha says, and sits down, effectively ending the discussion. She drops her heavy pack down in front of her and pulls out a whetstone, but doesn’t start sharpening her blade just yet— instead, she tosses it from hand to hand, the motion barely visible in the dim light. 

“So, why are you two in this terrible place?” Molly asks after a moment, leaning back against one of the tunnel walls. He has his eyes closed, cutting off the bright glow and leaving him in almost complete darkness.

“Two people who we both care about are down there when they shouldn’t be,” Nott says. She doesn’t elaborate, and Caduceus is too busy trying to keep his mind from wandering to add anything more, and then she throws back “Were you the ones who smashed those planks at the tunnel entrance?” and it’s a sort of game, now, isn’t it? A question for a question, an answer for an answer? Caduceus thinks, absently, that there are far worse games to play in the dark. 

“Yes,” Yasha answers, all soft and quiet in a way that’s definitely meant to hide any feelings sneaking into her voice. “They really should have better security if they don’t want people coming down here all the time. It was too easy.” 

“Want to see me balance a knife on my horns?” Molly asks. (“Molly,  _ no _ ,” “Absolutely,” and “Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to pack extra bandages,” are the responses.) 

Over the next hour or so, they learn that ‘balancing’ and ‘knives’ are not a very good combination when applied to Molly, that Caduceus packed enough food for sixteen people but forgot to throw in spare batteries for the flashlights, and that not only did Molly offer the gate guard drugs as a bribe, he insulted her in several languages when she refused. Caduceus and Nott learn that Yasha is down here for her wife, who was sent down here against her will by a family who disapproved of their marriage, and that Molly flat-out refused to let her go alone. 

Caduceus takes first watch that night, and and only agrees to let Nott take over second when she threatens to get her crowbar again. (She’s grown disturbingly fond of that thing in a very short period of time, which Caduceus might be concerned about if he wasn’t so tired.) 

He doesn’t sleep again that night, for fear of what dreams it might bring him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the bit that had the warnings for it: Caduceus has a dream that starts off as a memory of the way he and Caleb met: Caleb was hurt and came to him for healing on someone else's recommendation. The dream quickly becomes a nightmare, with Caleb's injuries being far more severe than they were in reality and Caduceus being unable to help. Cad wakes up shaken, but otherwise fine.
> 
> Comments/kudos provide warmth and light so I don't have to make a fire and get arrested :D

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos replenish the food stores so I don't have to go work in the Underworld :)


End file.
